


The Proper Use of Artifacts

by Annie_Nygma



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-20
Updated: 2009-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 19:16:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annie_Nygma/pseuds/Annie_Nygma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Between James and the wishing kettle, there must be some way to make Artie relax.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Proper Use of Artifacts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sunnyrea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunnyrea/gifts).



"So much could be done with this, you know. So much good, so much evil."

"That's exactly why the Warehouse exists," his partner snipped, snatching the artifact and putting it back where it belonged. "Some things don't need to be out for public consumption." Of course, Arthur Nielson thought, he would get paired with the kind of person who looked at a storage unit for potentially dangerous objects as a playground full of new toys. He looked over his partner. James MacPherson was poking at a cross-stitch sampler which promptly started to sew on it's own and ask him for requests. Artie eyed the kettle that rested a few spaces down. Wishing for the complete and total safety of his family hadn't worked, but he suddenly had a more obtainable idea. James looked away from the cross-stitch in time to see something small and furry run past.

"Did I just see a ferret? Can living creatures be artifacts?"

"Guess that means no transfer." Artie sighed, but a small glimmer of hope kept him trying again and again over the next week.

~*~

"Another ferret?" Artie only glanced up for a moment, still fixated on the computer he was attempting to build. "I thought I gave up after the pet store threatened to call animal control."

"This one is mine, Arthur. Earned her after wishing I didn't have to put up with you any longer." James scowled and scratched the newly-named Freddy behind her ears.

"We really are stuck together, aren't we?" He finally looked up from the mess of spare parts. The ferret gave a small chirp of approval and leapt to the ground, crawling onto his lap.

"Till death do we part, I suppose." Artie groaned and set aside the screwdriver, looking up to find James glaring down. "It would be helpful, of course, if you stopped moping around and did something around the place when we're not off looking for things to…how did you put it? Snap up, wrap up, trap up?"

"It's 'snag it, bag it, and tag it,'" he grumbled defensively, "and I'm trying to improve our database. Those filing cabinets are dangerous, almost lost a finger trying to figure out which aisle Ahab's harpoon belongs in."

"Ah, the Agent Crushers. Sometimes I think those things are alive, you know." James perched on a clutter-free corner of the desk. "Still, good for you, trying new things, attempting improvements. I thought you clung to the old ways like moss to a tree. Tell me, are your home movies still on Betamax?"

"Forget it." He pushed away from the desk and grabbed his coat, muttering under his breath. "I'm going back to the B&amp;B. We need some cookies."

~*~

Temptation got the better of James in a small town in Greece, with a small pair of snake-shaped earrings that were said to have driven the wearers insane. The women were said to speak nonsense until the piercing bits of silver were removed. He reasoned that holding the snakes to his ears was only an experiment, a test to see if the effect was related to having the hook through one's skin or of having the snake close enough to whisper. Whisper they did, and he was suddenly greeted with the image of himself and his partner, engaged in a passionate kiss against the refrigerator of the bed and breakfast.

"You don't happen to have any feelings for me, do you, Arthur?" He looked up curiously as he finished packing, giving him a smirk with just a bit of potential seduction in his eyes.

"Why…why would you ask something like that?" Artie looked distinctly uncomfortable at the thought, almost as if he had been be caught. "I…did I tell you, that one time, about the woman I loved, back…a while ago. Didn't I? Her name was Francesca, and she-"

"Relax, relax. It's just a little prophesy, that's all. Maybe Cassandra's Earrings simply enable the wearers to see the truth, not the future." James put them back into their wrapping and tucked it safely into his suitcase.

"Yes, well, they also mean the wearer will never be believed. I…you don't think we'd actually ever…do you?" The other man only laughed and turned out the light, settling into his own bed.

"They say the best partnerships and rivalries have a hint of sexual tension. Go to sleep, Arthur. You can stew about it on the plane ride, if it makes you happy."

~*~

James watched Artie curiously for the next several days. _He needs to get out,_ he thought, _needs to have something to think about besides this blasted place. He needs a woman._ He placed Cassandra's Earrings on the shelf, walking by the wishing kettle. "I wish Arthur could find himself a good woman tonight, just for a night, just enough to let him relax." He fully expected to be followed by a ferret on his way out of the Warehouse. Instead, Harriet Tubman's thimble rolled toward him, and an idea formed.

~*~

Artie's jaw dropped when the woman walked into the B&amp;B. Tall, curvy, with a round face and a sweet smile, it was the perfect image the woman in the photograph he had once shown James. She didn't say a word, only took the spatula from his hand and gave it a sensuous lick before setting it on the counter.

"Francesca, you're…how did you get…from Italy?" She held a finger over her lips before kissing his, tentative and almost shy. He pulled back, staring at her for a brief moment before drawing her into another kiss, this one more frantic, pushing her against the refrigerator. "Francesca, Francesca." The woman groaned, one hand in his hair and the other fighting to unfasten his pants. Artie groaned as her nimble fingers wrapped around him. "Stop, stop, we need to…need to talk. You're going to make me…it's been so long and-" Another kiss, and he was speechless, letting her lead him upstairs without questioning how she went straight to his bedroom. He melted under her hands, whispering her name over an over. It was enough to make James feel a little bad when Artie grabbed Francesca's wrist, pulling her hand up and causing the thimble fly across the room.

"Hello, Arthur," he purred, not missing a beat. "Lay down, get comfortable. You said you were almost over the edge." Artie looked at James as though he would punch him, if he wasn't in shock.

"What…what the hell are you doing?" Some logical part of him wanted to berate James, not only for taking advantage of him, but for the use of an artifact for such a reason. It was too difficult to think on the brink of an orgasm. "I…you made me think that…why is your hand on my-" He was silenced with a kiss, again, this one a good deal more awkward than before.

"You're normally so good at leaping before you look, Arthur. How about doing that tonight, hmm?" James smirked. "You need to relax, after all, and what's more relaxing than a bit of fun in bed?" He placed a finger over his partner's lips before he could protest any more. "Go with it. It's just one night. He took a deep breath and nodded.

"Just one night."

~*~

Over the next two years, those "one nights" continued, with the promise that each time was the last. A rope made of Samson's hair, Anne Boleyn's necklace, and a radio that played only Marvin Gaye occasionally found their way out of the Warehouse and into their bedrooms. It slowed down once Carol came into their lives, but never truly broke until the of the fire. James went to prison, Carol went far away, and Artie went back to the Warehouse alone. Freddy was no where to be found; Artie guessed that he vanished. The wish had been proven possible, after all; they were no longer together. When added to everything else, the thought was bittersweet. It lasted fifteen years, until he stared MacPherson down in a DC hanger, and continued dangling by a thread of doubt until he was captured.

"The Bronze Sector," James mused as they walked down the aisles. "I'll be a part of the Warehouse forever, then?" Everyone was silent. "Guess the old ferret kettle was right, wasn't it, Arthur? Now we really are stuck together."

"No, you're stuck where you can't use the artifacts for personal gain," Artie grumbled, walking a little faster.

"Funny," he said with a smirk, "you never objected before."


End file.
